Winter…probably not ever gonna be a friend of mine.
Nah, at best we’re acquaintances, very slight acquaintances.
I don’t really like winter. She’s kinda beautiful on the surface when she presents her white powerdered wonderland.
But like superficial relationships, she whips her winds around tantalizing you with fake promises of attachment while she slicks her icey agenda past your stances, as if anyone of us can build a foundation of meaning on a foundation that melts.
And yet, despite her seeming power and impact, though her winds of lies chill me to the core, her attempted remnant doesn’t last. Not when I remember to bundle up my heart with the strength and wisdom that sees through superficial, meaningless fake expression of persona.
Truth?
Winter sometimes reminds me of the pull to seem and be a way, an individuality that one is really not.
It’s a season, so it’s fleeting. But what of the persona one dons and tries to convince another–even herself–that this is the life she wishes or the endeavors and pursuits she expects she must fulfil?
I appreciate when I witness the ice melt.
It is a reminder to disrobe the false perspectives of purpose, of life worth, of esteemed summits once pined for to peak.
And I marvel at what remains…that solid steady current that breathes on far beneath the cutting, stinging surface of the ice.
What’ere the ways we are each evolving our lives, dig deep to the currents and hear what beckons and follow that.
It’s the only way to thwart off the chill and freezing tendencies of false duties or responsiblities not really one’s own.
Breathe..be still…hear the inner pulse.
Heed that.
It’s truly the only way to be.